Unanswered

I thought about you during yoga class tonight. Smiled as I remembered how we would leave work and head to have tea/coffee before yoga class. First classes with Beth and Tammy. Then eventually with Abbe at the old firehouse on Commercial. It was one of our rituals. You turned me onto this practice of dogs that face upward and downward.

Our lunches at Tea Bar and Bites was another ritual. We practically ran from the building on those days. Our little retreat from that toxic office. Our table was in the backroom, where we could talk privately. Then there was that period we ate lunches and played backgammon on a fellow yogi’s porch in Roundtree. I can’t remember her name. You taught me backgammon. I loved our games. I can’t bring myself to play now.

You showed me the little things in life that made it wonderful. Walks in beautiful neighborhoods, the joys of living simply. Good food. Soft sheets and towels. You said the things you touch should feel good. I still only buy things that feel good to the touch.

We met when I was a young wife, a new homeowner, and fresh to the full-time workforce. You were my friend who had “been there, done that.” Marriages, kids, jobs, life. You had seen a lot of life. You helped me see I deserved more from life. Gave me space to figure out what to do as my marriage disintegrated. Provided the wine, sympathetic ear, and friendship on many nights, I miss those conversations at your Stickley kitchen table where we talked about life and solved the world’s problems.

You encouraged me to find a new job. Move away. Gave me a kick in the pants when I needed it. Allowed me to cry when I moved to a scary new place and was overwhelmed by it all. We talked for hours on the phone nearly every night for months. Five hundred miles disappeared with a single phone call.

I know we had been drifting apart for a while. I know our friendship wasn’t what it once was the last time we spoke. I don’t know why you just stopped talking to me. Never returned my calls or texts. Our friendship ended in an argument in late 2017. Ten years of friendship ended in a heartbeat without an explanation.

The smell of cedar bows at Christmas in your home. The warmth of your hug. The joy of drinking wine and talking with you.

Your company was gone in an instant.